(Just Like) Starting Over

New Orleans 1981 

After picking me up at the airline counter, My Dad, who incidentally resembled Grizzly Adams (which as you can imagine, might be a tad bit intimidating to a 14 year old girl) seemed to be as anxious to be meeting me, as I was to finally be meeting him. We gathered my luggage from baggage claim and made our way to the exit. The automatic sliding glass doors parted, greeting me with an intense, humid, heated embrace that enveloped me, from which there was no escape. We tried to make small talk on the drive to his home in the French Quarter. His truck was very old, white and had only an am radio. Today I would smile at it's vintage charm but I remember nearly recoiling back then, at the sight of it, making the quiet assumption that my father was relatively poor.  Knowing a little about the psychology of body language now, I am positive that my Dad must have picked up on my apprehension, as I was seated as far to the right on the shared truck seat, as I could be. The outer city limits of New Orleans were admittedly impressive, brightly lit and they exuded an alluring energy. It was well after two in the morning by this time, and I stared out the window of his truck, taking in all of my surroundings. 


Once we got to my Dad's, I began to feel a lot more comfortable. The drive with the windows down had cooled me off a little bit, and walking into his house sort of amazed me. First off, I had never seen architecture like that before. The ceilings were very high. The windows were pretty narrow but they were about 12 feet tall! All the walls were chalk-white, but his window trim was all painted a bright & warm, vivid yellow. No curtains. Window glass spotlessly clean. Lots of hanging plants. The furniture was very retro. But not in a "too poor to buy new stuff" type of "retro"- I was seeing "vintage classicism meets mid century modern" - with a splash of Bohemian Euro-chic over everything! :)  It was different decor than I had ever seen; it was warm and inviting, but still somehow exciting but what really fascinated me, was the art! I was in awe - Everywhere I looked there was a painting. Or a portrait. Or a canvas. There were easels. And pastels, and palettes. There were sketch pads in stacks - filled!! Elaborate doodles on the phone book & on slips of paper adorning his refrigerator. Suddenly, I felt like I fit there.

My Dad put on music - he had an extensive collection. Cat Stevens, Steely Dan, Doobie Brothers, Billy Joel & The Beatles played while he whipped up an impromptu "bite to eat". The man could cook. With skillful ease & speed, he steamed broccoli in one small pot, boiled green (?!?) flat long noodles - sauteed butter - minced fresh garlic and pan seared two filet mignon. The whole thing took 10 minutes & I have never tasted anything like it since he cooked for me. He could have been a chef had he been compelled to do so, I'm sure of it. 
He lit candles everywhere; we ate while listening to music at like 4am by now (?!?) and he asked tons of questions & voila! the ice was forever broken. He showed me in his art studio / dining room the loft he was nearly finished building. It was a good 8 ft. off of the ground; and approximately 8'x10'. He informed me that my bed "nook" would be up there! That way, I'd have my own space and a modicum of privacy. That felt very welcoming and thoughtful. I was relaxing more and more. We laughed when we saw that it after 5:30am - it was the latest I had ever stayed up! He made up his couch with clean sheets and pillows & said Good night.

The next "morning" (11?) I got up, showered, dressed (haha! I just remembered how cute I thought I looked!! :)) My mom had bought me these really cute dark jeans, a red french tee, and Mork & Mindi rainbow suspenders! and Dr. Scholl's wooden sandals! Remember those? Jack was still asleep and I really didn't know what to do with myself. I started drawing at one of his easels. And I experimented with his pastel chalks lying there, trying to imitate one of his portraits he had been working on... I was in 7th Heaven, very calm & drinking orange juice. When Boom!!! He walked past me quickly - stark NAKED!!!! I was mortified! I would have gladly crawled under his hardwood floors. There was no escaping this scene, at all! 


We established some ground rules after that lovely incident and then planned the rest of our day. I would meet his significant other - Carol and two half brothers, Adam & Noel. They had a unique relationship - she lived with my Dad - when they felt like it. I was beginning to see that nothing here in New Orleans was anything like life as I knew it back in Ohio. But, I was excited to see more, none the less.
To be continued... ;)

In the heart of the night

In the heart of the night

In the cool southern rain

There's a full moon in sight

Shining down on the Pontchartrain 

And the river she rises

Just like she used to do

She's so full of surprises

She reminds me of you

In the heart of the night

(Oh, down in New Orleans)

There's a night-bird singing

Right on through till the dawn

And the streets are still ringing

With people carrying on

It's been so long waiting

Just to be here again

Anticipating

All the time I could spend

In the heart of the night 

And I trust in your love never falling down

And I trust in your love

Just like I do in this town

Oh, never falling down

Never falling down

In the heart of the night

In the cool falling rain

There's a full moon in sight

Shining down on the Pontchartrain

And the river she rises

Just like she used to do

She's so full of surprises

She reminds me of you

In the heart of the night 

And I'm so glad to be back in New Orleans

Please don't wake me, don't shake me,

If this is only just a dream

'Cause It's the only place I can face 

That makes me feel so right

Below that Dixie moon and loving you

In the Heart of the Night

By: Poco 

1979

So - Where were we?

 I started getting to know my Dad over several phone calls during the following weeks

and it was decided I would go to visit him in New Orleans. 

As soon as the school year was up, I would make the trip.

I was very excited to be embarking on this journey. I was just shy of turning 14.

My mom took me shopping, helped me gather photos to share once I got there. 

The day I left, she and I laid out in the sun in our backyard, as my brothers played in the sprinkler. I don't remember talking much. I look back now and think this must have been a difficult day for her - to pretend everything was just ducky, but she must have been somewhat reticent about me leaving. It was the very first time I had flown. We said our good-byes at the gate and I boarded my plane. One thing happened I will never forget...

Once I got settled in on the plane, I was nervously passing time, waiting for takeoff,

 I started going through my new little magenta colored purse. 

Tucked inside was a very unexpected note from my Mom. 

"Kelley, I know I don't tell you often enough,

 but I want you to know, I love you... very much. Mom" 

Tears welled up in my eyes immediately and I missed her instantly. 

I've never forgotten that note, nor how it made me feel. 

My flight arrived at New Orleans airport at around 1:30 am 

The fellow passengers seemed to scatter within a matter of seconds and I felt eerily alone. I scanned the long, wide corridors to my left and right - 

seeking a face I would somehow hopefully recognize. 

But the only person in close proximity was a small-framed black man wearing headphones operating a huge, softly whirring carpet vacuum. I nervously approached the airline counter and said shyly "I don't know what to do, my father was supposed to be here..." Suddenly, I was anxious enough that I could feel a lump rising in my throat.

Then I heard his voice.

"Kelley?"...

~ To be continued ;)

Without wings, without wheels

 You can't just go off on a journey

 with a complete STRANGER! 

What were you thinking? 

Surely, your mother warned you of such things!

 Yes, we should probably become better acquainted.
Let's see... 
Well, I'm an artist. Self taught, but that counts. (I've had to convince myself of that for a while now!) Anyway, I have loved all things pertaining to art since I was literally about two years old. My mom said I had a compulsion to finger paint every day. And, if paints weren't readily available, I was known to find some sort of writing implement & just decorate the walls!

My father, also an artist, was still in the home until I was nearly two. I must have gotten the inspiration to sow my own artistic oats, from watching him paint and sketch constantly. 

And of course, there's always that possibility of genetic predisposition too, I suppose. 

Throughout the next several years, I had no contact with my father. However, my love of art flourished. It was consistently my favorite subject - I may be left-handed, but I was definitely right brain dominant! 

To my step-father's dismay, I am apt to believe.
 He was proficient in math and science, very pragmatic, somewhat dry and extremely logical.
 I wanted so much to impress him, but always thought he regarded my interests and creations as pure fluff. He would implore me to study more.

 And, that... did not impress me much!  

Don't get me wrong. I loved my Dad very much. He was sometimes an exacting or "tough" parent, but that's just it - He WAS a parent. He was very much "on the scene" - very dedicated to home and family. He counted me as family, and that, was something I could always count on. 

I had a good life. 

A few more years passed, and my parents got divorced. This was naturally, a very painful experience. And I became very confused, as I learned at this time,
that there was actually another man out there. 

A man who was supposedly my "real" father. 
He lived in New Orleans. 
He had left shortly after my mother remarried and had been there ever since. 

Around that time, (I was nearly 12) I began having a very difficult time. My (step) Dad inexplicably and abruptly broke off all ties...... with me. 

However, he continued coming every other weekend to collect my two younger brothers for weekend visitation.

 Avoiding any eye contact with me.

 This was extraordinarily confusing and exceedingly painful.

 The reasoning given to me by well meaning adults was that my brothers were his "real" kids. 
So, I became more and more obsessed with finding my "real" father.


 I only had a few snapshots of him. I would try to imagine what he was like.
 I knew his name was Jack.
That he was married once before my mom AND had a daughter before me!  A sister?!?

I knew very little else. My mom told me little snippets, at my compulsive inquiries. She relayed bits and pieces about their whirlwind courtship, their brief marriage and ultimately, their untimely breakup. I was so intrigued by the impulsive nature of it all! It all seemed terribly romantic to me.  It all seemed terribly annoying to her that I felt this way. 
This makes me grin.  I get it, now.
So, who was this man??

The ache to belong to someone again, grew unbearable until my mom did a very noble and selfless thing. She decided to launch a quest to find him for me. Now, as a mother myself - I know that must have made her queasy at best. They had had no contact for nearly eleven years. Before I knew it, I was introduced - over the phone, long distance - to this man of mystery.

To be continued........ ;)

Take a little trip and see

If you have found your way here, HI!
So glad you could stop by!

This is a new adventure for me. I mean, I actually feel like I am going on a trip, sort of! 

One I wanted to take for like, ever! But I just kept procrastinating. Putting it off... 

But, turns out: Today is the day.

I'll try to remind myself - as always - that it's not the destination that is important but the journey. I think you should come, too! It just might be great fun.This isn't going to be like the family vacations where you drive straight through. Convincing your Dad one more time that, yes - a bathroom break is needed, yet again! 

I like to savor my surroundings! Take pictures, ask questions, enjoy all of the little nuances of the day. Take time to smell the flowers! Let's Carpe Diem together!